Saturday, September 17, 2011

Twenty-something years ago I started quilting, quilting, and quilting some more. I purchased hundreds of yards, fat-quarters, and little snippets of fabric. My closets were stuffed full of plastic tubs holding all shapes, sizes and colors of quilts in various stages of completeness. I saved each scrap of fabric 2 inches or bigger and carefully sorted them into ziplock bags by colors and shades. Ohhhhh, how anal-retentive does that sound?

The quilting projects soon got out of hand -- 20 to 30 unfinished quilts lurking quietly in the closet. That's absurd! In order to relieve some of the pressure, I moved them to the garage. Then I moved them to the empty back bedroom. But. . . I could still hear them calling me. They seemed as demented and crazed as Poe's Tell-Tale Heart! Ka . . . . thump, . .. thump . . . thump. Although the bolts of fabric had been dissected, chiseled, pieced and re-sewn, I could still hear them. Do you get the visual of the quilt skeletons lurking inside those plastic tubs?

What's a newbie decluttering, minimalizing, organized woman to do? I am tackling those quilts one at a time. After a strenuous, tedious 12 hours of sewing, I kicked three of those bad-boys to the curb today. They are boxed up to be delivered to the quilt shop where they will be professional machine quilted. I have decided to lower the bar on my expectations just a little and allow myself to become a piecer. Thus turning over the actual quilting to a professional. That's the only way I will get these bloody quilts out of the back bedroom.

As I sat at the sewing machine in back-aching, shoulder-aching, neck-aching agony, I kept asking myself, "If you were to die tomorrow, would you be satisfied that you spent the last day on this Earth sewing?" My answer, "ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY NOT!" I would want to be out in the fresh air, playing with my dogs, hiking, smelling the dirt and wallowing in sunshine.

Although, I really want to release this hobby from my life and move on to other things, the controlling, anal-retentive person inside of me won't quit until they are all finished. Stay tuned . . . I have a quilt show planned for November 19th.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

I used to hate the long, hot dog days of August. They seemed to drone on and on, smelling of acrid forest fires with no break in the monotony of the weather. One of the things I love most about where we live are the four seasons, and it seems if we get stuck in one season for too long, I feel trapped with the boredom.

One of the amazing things that happens as we get older is that time does not drone on and on anymore - - it flits as quickly as a gnat being chased by a hungry hen. As we move quickly through these days, it’s imperative to define what we love most and share in their simplicity. Two of my favorite parts of summer show up in August . . . fresh peaches and summer sunflowers.

Today, we went to the u-pick orchard, Sugar Plum Orchards, and picked 67 pounds of fat, juicy peaches. My husband kept asking what I would make when I got home. I said, “Nothing. . . I’m just gonna eat em.” They are splendid.

Throughout the summer, I’ve been watching a volunteer sunflower smack dab in the middle of my little plot at the community gardens. It’s gorgeous and tall -- faithfully following the sun. With its amber chin upturned, it protectively watches over my kale, broccoli, and tomatoes.

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About Me

I'm an avid knitter, budding minimalist, and lover of all creatures -- two of my favorites are my feisty hens and my delightful cairn terriers. My ramblings will range from adventures in knitting, learning to live more simply, and sharing morning tea with my hens. Thanks for joining me, and I hope you will chime in and share too!